


summer pornathon 3

by orphan_account



Series: Summer Pornathon '13 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Fuck Or Die, M/M, being captured, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:26:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He will take you.” He hears the sneering, the laughter. Malicious and cruel. “Let’s see how the great King of Camelot is panting like a dog in heat to bugger his Court Sorcerer into tomorrow.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	summer pornathon 3

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, yeah. Merthur captured & Arthur forced into fucking Merlin. Cheers?
> 
>  **kinks** : fuck or die  
>  **warnings** : initial dub-con; situation of being captured; rimming

The stone floor of the cave is cold and hard under Arthur, the pain shooting through his kneecaps the only emotion he can identify clearly. The voices from their captors barely reach him through the overwhelming haze of the magic working in his system.

“He will take you.” He hears the sneering, the laughter. Malicious and cruel. “Let’s see how the great King of Camelot is panting like a dog in heat to bugger his Court Sorcerer into tomorrow.”

And he is: he’s the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Dragonslayer, married to Guinevere Pendragon, and he’s on his knees panting like a dog in heat because his skin is burning with the need to touch Merlin, to get _more_ of him. Get more of his best friend, the one he has desired for years but has denied instead, because they can’t—but he can, he can, right now, with Merlin chained to the ground as he is, his powerful hands trapped in manacles repressing his magic, and Arthur is helpless. He’s heady with want, his cock is hot and hard and throbbing with need, and he hears their catcalls as he nuzzles, erratically, his way up the shaking line of the inside of Merlin’s leg. Merlin’s balls are soft and rough as Arthur laps over them with his tongue, as he helplessly, mindlessly, seeks out the dark secret place of Merlin further behind, the one he’s dreamt of, dreamt of touching, seeing, feeling—

“Look how desperate he is,” a coarse voice says, amused. From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees someone raise their hand, and the magic curls inside him, tightens, makes the insanity of the bottmless want boiling in his guts hotter, _hotter_. He growls with it and grits his teeth, nose buried in between Merlin’s arse cheeks. “This lil’ spell only shows what he really wants. It reveals his most base desires—his instincts, if you will. Our mighty King is a cocksucker. Loves being on his knees. Loves tasting the arsehole of his Sorcerer.”

Arthur does, fuck, he does—he can’t not, can’t not because they’ll kill Merlin if he won’t, and because he’ll kill himself if he won’t use this opportunity now that he has it. He’d have wanted it on a proper bed, preferably not out of his mind, and with Merlin’s consent—but he’s got this now, and it’s the only time, and he’ll use it. He’ll use it because Merlin’s responding after all, because after Arthur’s licked his arsehole pliant and loose and dripping he’s lapping at the spaces in between Merlin’s fingers and Merlin’s murmuring to him, murmuring, “It’s okay, I want this, want you,” lowly, only for Arthur to hear, because it’s what he needs to hear. Needs to know it’s okay like this, okay to do this, because if it’s not Arthur won’t ever forgive himself.

The relief doesn’t last long. The whip comes down a fourth time on his naked back, the sweat burning infernally in his open wounds, and Arthur bares his teeth in a grimace as he raises himself on his palms over Merlin. Merlin’s pale and shivering beneath him as Arthur opens him up, burns his way into Merlin’s tight sheath—pushes himself inside, where Merlin welcomes him, where Merlin wants him, and Arthur lowers himself to take Merlin’s mouth in a bruising kiss. To taste all the little “ah-ah-ah”s on his tongue that his cock fucks out of Merlin’s guts, to drag his thumb over the dirty arc of Merlin’s cheekbone as he pounds his desire, his need, his everything, against Merlin’s rear, mindless with it, stupid with it, helpless, helpless, hissing, “ _Mer_ lin,” as he bites into that seductive long line of Merlin’s neck, whispering, “I’m sorry,” over the sounds of their laughter as they watch the great King of Camelot on his knees screwing his sorcerer like a bitch in heat—as he raises himself on his legs and brushes his large hands down Merlin’s sides, over his fluttering belly, to close around his slim hips, raising him up, holding him there with his strong arms—and shoving him back, back onto his cock, and as Arthur roars out his release, the magic pounds inside his skull and veins and _works_ , reveals Arthur the way he is, and he sobs, “I love you, I love you,” bitterly, honestly, humiliated, but not wanting to be anywhere else but here.


End file.
